Confessions of a Weary Soul
by Gracielinn
Summary: "The deadly culmination of his actions ever since he'd gotten the text from a suddenly not dead wife, and predictably, neatly tumbled into the insidious trap laid by Rittenhouse, was breathtakingly swift..." Wyatt POV, post season two finale one-shot.


Confessions of a Weary Soul

" _The confession of errors is like a broom which sweeps away the dirt and leaves the surface brighter and cleaner..." - Mahatma Gandhi_

Sitting on the floor in the corner of his room with his arms wrapped around his knees, Wyatt frowned tiredly and concentrated with every bit of determination he could muster, trying in vain to clear his thoughts. Like a swarm of angry yellow jackets, they rose and fell, bits and pieces of mental shrapnel every bit as damaging as the ugly metal fragments still embedded in his back, bitterly stinging, doggedly persistent.

His body was beyond exhausted, his spirit overtaxed to the breaking point, yet Wyatt couldn't seem to shut his mind off-highly unusual for a career soldier who'd been through more firefights and soul-crippling situations than the average guy could sit in a movie theater all summer long and watch while knocking back a bucket of popcorn. The ability to compartmentalize was practically Delta Force 101, and should have come as easily to him as breathing, yet the effort to do so was nearly wiping him out. It occurred to Wyatt that perhaps his already damaged psyche had reached the end of the road...that this was just the first sign he was distressingly close to flat out losing his mind.

The voices and faces of those that Wyatt Logan cared most for (the true family he never knew he needed, but now couldn't live without), the ones he'd sworn to protect once upon a time, floated in front of his tightly-shut eyes. By his failure to keep that promise, however, he'd essentially wronged each one (not on purpose, sure, but good intentions _never_ changed the bottom line).

 _Rufus_...nearly giddy with happiness that Jiya's vision of him dying from a stab wound during the fight in the saloon hadn't come true, at least until the team stepped outside and that murderous bitch Emma shot him in the chest. The look of astonishment on Rufus' face as he tried to speak before closing his eyes for the last time was forever seared in his mind. Before the jump to 1888, Wyatt had deserved every bit of the man's anger when Jessica had taken Jiya, and he would never forget that. His brother in arms, one of the finest men he'd ever served with, and now dead 130 years in the past.

 _Jiya_...so fearful for Rufus' life that she willingly spent three dangerous years living alone in the past so that he might live. The harsh, ragged sobs she cried over his lifeless body as Wyatt frantically felt for a pulse rang in his ears even before the screams of protest when he physically picked Jiya up and pulled her away from her love, his friend and teammate.

 _Lucy_...his heart had nearly stopped at the sight of her poor battered face when she and a bloody Flynn had staggered up to him and a weeping Jiya. When Flynn mouthed the word, "Emma," a black rage filled Wyatt's heart, and if their team hadn't been in such a bad way, he would have left the women with Flynn and searched until the end of his days to put the Rittenhouse assassin down like a rabid dog.

It was all Wyatt's fault, every bit of it, and that awareness blanketed his soul in crushing despair. The deadly culmination of his actions ever since he'd gotten the text from a suddenly not dead wife, and predictably, neatly tumbled into the insidious trap laid by Carol Preston and Nicholas Keynes, with eager assistance from Emma Whitmore and one of Rittenhouse's most devoted sleeper agents, (the severely underestimated) Jessica Logan, was breathtakingly swift.

Theirs was a brilliant, yet surprisingly simple plan, and the devastation it wrought was immeasurable. So many lives lay in ruins now, every last one of them collateral damage from the hidden, autocratic war that Rittenhouse had waged for centuries against America and her citizens.

A punishing wave of guilt swept over Wyatt, leaving him sick at heart in its intensity. If only he hadn't been so stubborn, so unwilling to listen to reason, in spite of the undeniable proof that his beloved wife, his _miracle_ (according to Lucy) was a Rittenhouse operative. By her own damning admission, Jessica had easily been recruited into the organization as a child for the sole purpose of destroying him and the other members of the team, most especially Lucy.

He squirmed at the thought that Denise Christopher and Connor Mason had suspected the truth for a week while Wyatt had heedlessly tried to be happy with Jessica in spite of his feelings for Lucy. He had been the biggest fool, blindly telling himself that because it was his fault she was murdered in his original time line, he owed it to his wife to make a life with her, no matter the cost. But now that the dust had settled, it turned out the cost had been impossibly high indeed...

 _Flashback_

The unthinkable reality of Jiya's vision coming true was truly a nightmare brought to life-one of the worst things he'd ever experienced, ranking right up there with leaving his fellow soldiers behind in Syria and having to identify Jessica's body in his time line. Yet incredibly, Wyatt realized that somehow, this felt even worse, like some twisted combination of both. Torn between staying with a broken, weeping Jiya and his dying friend, but desperately needing to make sure Lucy was alright, Wyatt ruthlessly forced himself to shut down every single emotion threatening to overwhelm him. Now was not the time to indulge–his rage, grief, and bitter regret would have to wait until later.

Closing his eyes, Wyatt inhaled deeply, grateful when a calm, almost clinical detachment gradually began to flow over his mind, enough to let him at least marginally function. First order of business was to get everyone back to the lifeboat-complete the mission. There was no telling when Emma would return, possibly with armed reinforcements (or God, even worse, his wife), and every second the team lingered in 1888 Chinatown only further jeopardized all their lives.

Holding Rufus' already cooling body protectively against his while Jiya ran frantic hands over him, hearing her little cries of denial as she feverishly begged her love to wake up, broke Wyatt's heart ( _or what little he likely had left after Jessica's defiant, somewhat pitying confession earlier practically gutted him_ ). Leaning across Rufus, he put his hand on Jiya's neck, and looking into her desolate, tear-soaked face, murmured, "Jiya, I'm so sorry, I am, but we have to go now, it's not safe," silently willing her compliance.

Blinking furiously, after a moment's pause, Jiya gave him a jerky nod and struggling with her bulky skirts, stumbled to her feet before leaning over to put an arm under Rufus' shoulder to help Wyatt pick him up. Rightly anticipating her immediate protest when he stopped her, Wyatt knew the look of stunned disbelief she wore and her pained whispers would haunt his dreams for a long time.

Prying the younger woman's surprisingly strong hands from Rufus had taken nearly every ounce of strength Wyatt could summon. As she fought fiercely with him, he scarcely felt her small fists pounding on his chest, so great was his growing fear and underlying sorrow. Precious seconds ticked by until finally, Jiya capitulated, her thin body sagging in his arms while she sobbed in agony.

Out of the corner of his eye, Wyatt saw Lucy and Flynn approach them. As they drew closer, his initial relief that Lucy was still alive was consumed by a ferocious desire to kill someone when he caught sight of her bruised, bleeding face, shiny with silent tears. When she stumbled and nearly fell, the other man deftly caught her with his left arm before she hit the ground, all the while holding his damaged right arm carefully at his side.

Even as Wyatt's worried gaze scanned Lucy for bullet wounds, Flynn shook his head, and urged, "We need to leave _now_." Still holding Jiya up, he watched helplessly as Lucy shrugged away Flynn's arm, and sank in a puddle of crazy black and white striped skirts beside Rufus, tenderly putting her hand on his cheek. Leaning close to his ear, she swiped at the tears sliding down her face before whispering something to their friend and teammate.

Turning away from Rufus, Lucy took a shuddering breath and looked up at Wyatt, and the devastation written across her forlorn face was agonizing to behold. Much as he wanted (needed) to hold _her_ in his arms and offer some kind of comfort, all Wyatt could manage was keeping his arm securely around a silently weeping Jiya and watch Flynn step forward and gently help Lucy to her feet.

Making a quick decision, Wyatt asked, "Lucy, can you hold onto Jiya?" and when she gazed at him with dull, haunted eyes, he smiled encouragingly at her and at her brief nod, relinquished Jiya into Lucy's trembling arms. The two women clung to each other and looked on in numb silence as Wyatt and Flynn carefully scooped up Rufus' body and carried him back inside the now deserted saloon and laid him on a table.

After quickly shrugging off his jacket, Wyatt helped Flynn off with his, and gently draped both over his friend. Tears filled his eyes as he wordlessly stared down at Rufus and said goodbye. A brief moment later, Flynn cleared his throat almost apologetically, and quietly reminded Wyatt that Lucy and Jiya were waiting outside alone. Wyatt hastily rubbed at his eyes and with one last squeeze of Rufus' shoulder and a whispered apology, turned and followed the other man out the door.

Because he felt so guilty and knew Jiya needed him, Wyatt didn't even blink at the usual twinge of jealousy he felt when Flynn put his arm around Lucy, who resolutely kept her eyes lowered. Once their bloody and bedraggled little group reached the lifeboat, Wyatt scrambled up inside and turned to help the women. Sinking into the pilot's seat, Jiya took a deep breath and squaring her bare shoulders, began mechanically flipping switches and buttons while Wyatt reached down and grasping Lucy securely around the waist, tugged her through the opening and got her settled as Flynn easily climbed aboard.

For a fleeting second, no one made a sound after the lifeboat thudded to a stop in the bunker. By unspoken agreement, the other three remained seated and let Jiya exit first. Sluggishly following Lucy down the metal steps, Wyatt felt like he'd lived a hundred years in the space of a few hours, physically exhausted, so emotionally wrecked that Agent Christopher and Connor Mason's horrified distress at the news of Rufus' death barely registered. He didn't even flinch when Jiya screamed at all of them that they should have left her alone in the past. Wyatt personally knew it would be some time before she accepted that it was Rufus' last, most fervent wish that the team rescue the woman he loved so deeply.

Even before Jiya took off down the corridor with an anguished Connor close behind, Agent Christopher had taken one look at Lucy's roughed up face and Flynn's blood-soaked arm and was on her phone calling for a doctor. Wyatt instinctively moved to escort Lucy down the hallway to the infirmary, pathetically grateful that she allowed it, all the while disregarding Flynn's knowing smirk.

Once Lucy sank wearily onto a chair, bowing her head despondently, Wyatt leaned over and squeezing her narrow shoulder, said, "I'll be right outside if you need me," and he was disappointed but not surprised when she shook her head and told him she was fine and that he should go get cleaned up. Trying to accept her dismissal as gracefully as he could, Wyatt nodded reluctantly and left the room, only to blatantly ignore Lucy's request and park himself just outside the door.

Endless minutes later, the doctor arrived, and shortly thereafter, Flynn walked out by himself, his right arm held neatly in place against his side by a black sling. He raised a single dark eyebrow at Wyatt leaning on the wall just outside the open door in defiance of Lucy's wishes. At the mutinous expression on Wyatt's face, Flynn gestured for him to follow him a few feet away, just out of earshot, before speaking.

"Try not to worry. She's fine, Wyatt, physically at least. It looks bad, but she probably only needs a couple of butterfly bandages for the contusions and ice on the swelling around her neck and left eye, and the doctor assured us the bruises will eventually fade. I tried to get the doc to examine her first, but naturally, your Lucy insisted he see to my bullet wound before she would let him look at her..."

Unbidden, the words of doubt and self loathing burst from Wyatt, "Is she? _My_ Lucy? Still? After everything I've done to her, put her through these past few weeks?" As the other man regarded him thoughtfully, an embarrassed Wyatt muttered, "Never mind," and shaking his head at his impulsiveness, started to walk back to the infirmary to wait for Lucy when Flynn called his name.

Turning around to face him, Wyatt was reminded that in spite of his deep mistrust and antagonism towards Garcia Flynn, he had definitely been an asset on the past couple of missions, handling himself with a calm grace that Wyatt grudgingly appreciated. And he definitely owed him one for not killing Jessica when he had the chance, pregnant or not. But still, as close as Lucy and Flynn appeared to be with one another lately, it was probably out of line to ask the guy such a personal question.

"Wyatt, in spite of what your jealousy and insecurity led you to believe, Lucy and I are merely friends, nothing more, and surely even you can admit that she has needed someone to talk to. Although I will always be her friend, _you_ are the one she needs now, after everything that has happened to her, if you can handle it. And if you can't be there for her, if you let your tremendous, misguided guilt get in the way, then I think it's only fair that you know I am more than willing to pick up the pieces. That's a solemn promise."

Looking at Flynn, searching his face intently, Wyatt saw no mockery or malice, but instead, a sincerity that bewildered him. ( _My God, Garcia Flynn has real feelings for Lucy...how did I not see that before?_ ) Clearing his throat, Wyatt surprised both of them when he offered his gratitude for saving Lucy's life. Flynn shrugged indifferently at the thanks, telling him that although Lucy fought valiantly, like a tigress, she was obviously in need of some good self-defense training. For the first time in hours, if not days, Wyatt felt the trace of a smile tug at his lips and vowed to start Lucy's lessons as soon as she was able. Smiling faintly in return, Flynn excused himself and headed in the other direction.

Resuming his post just outside the infirmary door, the slight smile fell from his face as Wyatt arrived just in time to hear in great detail how Lucy was nearly beaten to death by Emma Whitmore, each reluctant word from her lips to the doctor raining down on him like a physical blow. Sweet, gentle Lucy, always putting everyone before herself, had bravely (foolishly) gone after an experienced, merciless killer like Emma, and nearly forfeited her life.

At the thought of how close he'd come to losing Lucy as well as Rufus, and despite Flynn's warning, Wyatt could feel guilt and shame washing over him. Suddenly feeling unfit to be around Lucy, desperate to escape and be by himself for a while, he hurried back to his room, fortunately without encountering any of his bunker mates. Shutting the door firmly behind him, Wyatt stopped abruptly at seeing the two cots pushed together in the center of the room, becoming enraged at the reason for that before angrily flipping one over and shoving the other against the wall. Chest heaving, he fought to calm down. Losing his shit on top of everything else that happened today was not a good idea, definitely the last thing the others needed right now.

Looking down, Wyatt felt sick at the sight of his dead friend's dried blood smeared all over him. Hastily grabbing the first clean clothes he could find, he slipped down the silent corridor to the (thankfully) unoccupied bathroom for a brief shower. When he emerged, cleaner in body ( _if not mind_ ) some ten minutes later, the bunker was still oppressively quiet.

Hollowed out from shock and fatigue, Wyatt felt as if he could sleep for days, so he headed back to his room, where the sight of the two wrecked cots mocked him. Snatching a blanket off one of them, he deliberately chose a spot in the corner and sank wearily to the floor, pulling his knees up under his chin and laid his head down. Almost immediately, the second he closed his eyes, Wyatt was bombarded with regrets, his penance for every stubborn, selfish decision made in the last month.

 _End Flashback_

Lost in a daze of guilt and self recrimination, Wyatt gradually came to the conclusion that of all the unforgivable transgressions he committed recently, there was really only one he had a prayer of fixing. While it was impossible to bring Rufus back, and he was unsure at the moment if Jiya would ever forgive him for his impulsive decision to bring Jessica to the bunker, thereby endangering all their lives, there _was_ one wrong Wyatt could at least try to make right.

He'd been lying to himself for months now, and clearly everyone around him knew it, so maybe it was finally time to pluck up his courage and tell Lucy the truth. And just like that, he began to feel somewhat better, maybe even a little hopeful. Decision made, Wyatt yawned widely, and comforting himself with thoughts of Lucy and the last time they had been happy with each other, during their beautiful night together in 1941, he drifted off in restless slumber.

Some time later, Wyatt startled awake. He blinked sleepily for a few seconds, amazed to have actually fallen asleep, even if only for a short while. Scrubbing his hands wearily over his face, he felt the cold metal of his wedding ring on his cheek, and the reminder of his traitorous wife infuriated him. Jerking it off his finger with probably more force than was necessary, Wyatt threw the offending band across the room where it bounced off the concrete wall and rolled out of sight. He never wanted to see the tangible symbol of his stupid, reckless mistake ever again.

Climbing rather stiffly to his feet, Wyatt groaned a little when his stomach growled in protest, and rubbing it absently, honestly couldn't remember the last time he ate. Maybe he could make sandwiches for everyone, just in case anyone else felt like eating. Pulling a flannel shirt out of the dresser, Wyatt shrugged it on over his tee and making sure he had his phone, slowly walked towards the kitchen area.

Coming around the corner, Wyatt stopped short at Lucy sitting on the floor holding an ice pack to her swollen cheek, staring pensively in front of her. His heart ached at the nasty bruises and scrapes adorning her pale face, and privately vowed that Emma Whitmore would pay dearly for harming the woman he loved. He stood uncertainly for a moment, glancing down at her wistfully until she eventually looked up at him, and encouraged by the lack of anger or disgust in her dark eyes, dropped down to the floor at her side while Lucy lowered the ice pack to her lap and kept her eyes focused on her hands.

Almost but not quite touching his shoulder to her much smaller one, Wyatt leaned his back against the chilly stone wall, and suddenly overcome by the need to confess, or possibly seeking some kind of absolution from her, he began to open up to Lucy. "This is my fault, all of it."

Naturally, knowing Lucy as well as he did, Wyatt wasn't the least bit surprised when she instantly shook her head to disagree with him, "No, it's not, Wyatt..." before he interrupted her, desperate to just get all the words out before he lost his nerve.

"I promised Rufus that I wouldn't let anything happen to him–I was supposed to protect him, and then I messed everything up." He sighed deeply and then stoically continued in a flat voice, "Just like I did with us," and stealing a quick glance at her profile, instinctively held his breath for her response.

"It's true," Lucy confirmed quietly after a moment, "You did mess things up with us," and pausing to let that sink in, shook her head in swift denial before turning to look him in the eyes. "But Rufus is not on you. We all stood together, he knew the risks, and accepted them willingly." At his involuntary snort of derision, in typical Lucy fashion, she sought to assure Wyatt. "You brought Jiya home safe...that's what mattered most to Rufus..."

And after everything the woman at his side had been through, all the emotional, mental, and physical anguish she'd suffered over the past month, her earnest attempt to absolve Wyatt of his well-earned guilt and shame, loosed the words from him that Lucy had deserved to hear, to know, months ago. "I love you, Lucy," and unable to meet her eyes, Wyatt felt, rather than saw, her mouth drop open slightly as she inhaled softly in shock. "You don't have to say it back...you don't have to say anything."

Feeling her wide-eyed stare fixed on his face, Wyatt focused his gaze in front of him and began to unburden his soul. "I just should have said it a long time ago, and I didn't, so I'm saying it now. Rufus wanted me to admit it," and at the thought of their friend scolding him in 1918 for not having the courage to tell Lucy how he felt, Wyatt grinned faintly before adding, "I know that wherever he is, if he's watching, he's saying,'it's about damn time'," and then he fell silent, waiting hopefully for her reaction.

Still watching him closely, Lucy whispered, with a little catch in her voice, "I can't believe he's gone..." just seconds before a tremendous thud drew their attention to the launch area where what looked like another lifeboat landed heavily, actually bumping their lifeboat aside as its huge metal rings slowly ground to a halt.

Ignoring Lucy's incredulous breath, Wyatt leapt to his feet, muttering, "What the hell?" He immediately retrieved his weapon out of his waistband and quickly advanced toward the two time machines, with Lucy hot on his heels.

Scarcely acknowledging the voices of the others when they came running to investigate the loud noise, Wyatt did hear Agent Christopher's question, "Oh, my God, what is that?" while pulling her gun from the holster around her waist, before she asked, "What's going on, Connor?"

And then a bewildered Flynn wondered aloud, "Is this another lifeboat?" before a shaken Jiya stopped beside him and observed, "But it looks upgraded..."

Making his way past them just in front of the lifeboat, barely feeling the reassuring touch of Lucy's hand on his back as she took her place beside him, Wyatt held his gun steady, carefully taking aim at the hatch when it slowly began to move aside. His heart pounded fiercely when the hatch slid open to reveal two unknown figures before Wyatt's world began to tilt precariously at his first good look at the bearded man, who stepped out first, followed by a very familiar-looking woman.

The shocked gasps of the others behind him hardly registered. _What the hell?_ It can't be, the team had been told time and again it just wasn't possible, but considering who the couple appeared to be, apparently it was. The disheveled man and woman, who were both dressed in some type of grimy "Tomb Raider" combat gear, looked exactly like him and Lucy, well, maybe a little older and not as clean. While their little group continued to stare up at the new arrivals in shocked disbelief, the bearded Wyatt smirked and asked, "Well, what are you waiting for?" followed a heartbeat later by a clearly impatient Lucy, who demanded, "You guys wanna get Rufus back, or what?"

At her unbelievably insane question, a stunned silence fell over the bunker residents, and then all hell broke loose...

 _Epilogue_

It had been quite an eventful few hours, Wyatt reflected, sitting at one of the kitchen area tables, staring down at his mug and absently stirring the steaming coffee. Hearing ( _Future? Other? Older?_ ) Lucy's blunt question, Jiya's eyes began to roll back into her head and Flynn managed to heroically catch her with his good arm before she hit the floor. Together, he and Lucy carried her over to one of the sofas to look after her, while Wyatt and Agent Christopher escorted their visitors to the NSA agent's makeshift office for the strangest mission debriefing Wyatt had ever sat through.

Even now, he could scarcely wrap his mind around the idea that his and Lucy's future selves had managed to travel back five years from present day to help the team prevent Rufus' death. It was crazy and impossible, likely too good to be true, but the longer Wyatt was around the couple, the more convinced he became that together, they just might be able to do it. _God, he seriously hoped so._

Something else that had occurred to Wyatt as he openly stared in fascination at the older versions of Lucy and himself was the fact that they were not only still together five years from now, but very much a couple, although neither one wore a wedding ring (he had checked, as discreetly as possible). And that definitely appealed to him, gave him hope for their future. He could see traces of 2018 Lucy and Wyatt in the other two, but this man and woman were committed to each other and had clearly persevered over the problems he and his Lucy were still fumbling their way through, not to mention those still to come.

Wyatt was encouraged at seeing the confident, contented way his future self behaved with future Lucy, like she was calling the shots and he was more than happy to let her. The way future Wyatt's eyes followed his Lucy's every move, the loving, gentle way he touched her, thrilled Wyatt, and he was dying to ask just how long it had taken for them to achieve such happiness with each other.

Lost in his thoughts, Wyatt was startled by a familiar hand on his shoulder, and turning with a smile, he was surprised to see future Lucy looking at him affectionately. "Sorry, cowboy, I didn't mean to scare you," she teased, "Mind if I sit down?" At his nod, she dropped into the chair across from him and sat patiently, knowing it was inevitable that their 2018 selves would have numerous questions for the Lucy and Wyatt from 2023.

"Cowboy?" he asked with a grin, and was delighted at the faint blush that crept delicately over her cheeks. "When did you start calling me that?"

Shaking her head, Lucy declined to answer that particular question, much to his disappointment, and requested firmly, "Next question."

Unsure what was allowed and what wasn't, Wyatt thought for a minute before he swallowed hard and suggested, "How about if I let you tell me something that would be helpful, 'cause I've made some terrible decisions, and nearly all those choices really hurt Lucy. After everything that happened with Jessica, I'm not sure if Lucy believes me yet, but I do love her very much, and if it takes me the rest of our lives, I swear I will make it up to her." He forced himself to sit quietly while future Lucy gazed at him searchingly for several long moments, and bit back a sigh of relief when she cleared her throat and began to speak.

"Although you might doubt it at this point, Wyatt, your Lucy does believe you, and I don't think it will hurt any kind of weird time flow to tell you that she loves you, too, and has for quite a while. You've made a good start today by telling her what she has badly needed to hear for a long time, and she appreciates that." Lucy fell silent, considering her words carefully.

"I know that your guilt about Jessica will continue to tear you up inside, Wyatt, but believe me, you _have_ to get over that," and when he raised a dark brow in confusion, she lifted one shoulder and confessed, "It took me a while, but I finally got my Wyatt to knock that crap off," and he easily returned her mischievous grin. Future Lucy had plenty of sass, and Wyatt liked that. Taking his hand in hers, Lucy told him that he needed to realize that this whole mess wasn't completely his fault-his Lucy had made mistakes also.

At the skeptical look he shot her, she hastened to explain. "What I mean is, that I, she, shouldn't have given up so easily when you went and brought Jessica into the bunker. We should have fought harder for you, for us, instead of being so afraid of coming between you and your wife, to the point where you really didn't seem to be aware of, or believe in, our feelings for you. So, be patient with her, Wyatt, love her, with everything you have. Your Lucy is struggling to work through a lot of deep-seated insecurities along with crushing losses, but she will come out on the other side, with your love and devotion, and it will all be worth it, I promise..." and her voice dwindled away as she directed a radiant smile over his shoulder, and Wyatt was pretty sure he knew who was behind him.

Casually straddling a seat beside his Lucy, future Wyatt leaned over and kissed her deeply, unashamedly. Even though it was strange to see, somehow Wyatt wasn't embarrassed. Rather, he was glad to see his future self act so openly affectionate with the woman he loved. Finally, the couple broke apart, both smiling widely at each other.

"Okay, I hate to interrupt you two lovebirds, but I have one more question, if that's alright?" At Lucy's nod, Wyatt asked humbly, "Do I-does he-make her happy?" and practically held his breath in anticipation of the answer. Future Wyatt's blue eyes lit up at the question, and he leaned closer to his Lucy and murmured, "Yeah, Professor, _do_ I make you happy?" Regarding both of them with a tender, faintly exasperated expression, she sighed happily and responded with a single word, "Yes."

And that was good enough for him. Once the older couple stood and said good night before heading to Wyatt's room for the evening, he had a sudden urge to be with his Lucy. Wyatt wasn't ready for any serious discussions with her yet, at least not until he had a chance to think more about his conversation with her future self. Maybe he could talk her into watching a movie with him or he could fix her a cup of coffee. Whatever she wanted, as long as it was with him. Well aware that he and Lucy no doubt had a long (hopefully open) road ahead of them, Wyatt was definitely excited now about their future together. After all, he had it on good authority from Lucy herself.

 _A/N: And I'm back, Timeless friends! Did you miss me? (I hope so!) Full disclosure: between trying to work through a massive case of writer's block and hanging out in the Twitter 'verse all week (#RenewTimeless), it feels like it's been ages since I've written and posted anything. I have read quite a few really good post finale stories here (looking at you, Velvet), and hope I was able to bring something a little different to the table, so to speak, with this fic. I want all of you to know that regardless of the decision that NBC makes, I have greatly enjoyed my time here in the fandom with my fellow Timeless fans. What a wonderful group of people :) My deepest appreciation to everyone who takes the time to read, favorite, follow, and especially review my stories. Thank you so much!_


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